The Soul of the Minister
by Mira Kial
Summary: Listen well, boy, before the flames consume me. This is a dark and bewildering world you're about to enter. That darkness will attempt to consume you, but hear me now - you cannot let this happen. Do not forget: you WILL not let this happen.
1. A word to the humans

.

. .

. . .

Nothing is mine.

Nothing, but _black_. It is a disgusting color.

The color _black_ means:

You are alone.

There is _no_ hope, and _no_ light, for you.

You are unimportant and unneeded.

The world will go on without you.

. . .

I lie silently in the void of my prison,

and I entertain myself by watching your world.

It is amusing.

Why do your people relish fighting each other so much? You spend all this time sharpening your swords, flexing your muscles, insisting that _you_ are the strongest. . .

. . .without even taking notice of how phenomenally lucky you are.

The sun shines down and warms your skin.

What does _warm_ feel like?

Birds sing to your ears the songs of happiness and life. They assure you that you are _there_, and _concrete_, and upon solid ground.

They assure you of the promise of a wonderful life to live . . .

. . . And you waste it away by deciding who can defeat the most men.

Truly, it is nothing short of despicable.

Yet . . .

I want your people.

And I want your world.

But, continually, I open my eyes to the familiar blackness. And the beautiful image flees from my mind. The ice-cold envy that comes from it, however, does not.

I cannot move.

But I _will_ break from this darkness.

Yes.

I will break free.

. . .

. .

.


	2. The world in ice

**Part I: Nurse Luria**

* * *

_the world in ice_

* * *

Words are a gift. They are a sweet privelege, not given to many.

I am reminded once again, as I take my second journey through the wilderness: not everyone is literate! I will always cherish my left hand, the five fingers that know how to put words together and open that veil to another world.

Shame and sadness but I don't have a pad of parchment with me. I try to emblazon every detail of the surrounding world in my mind, record it mentally so that I may not forget - and so I can write my story when I have the opportunity.

My son will need to read it.

He now walks ahead of me, a most unusual boy of fifteen. Those blackish eyes take in the world with a sense of curiosity, and yet wisdom... as if he knows the world already. Well, I may as well be overthinking it. But the one thing you know, when you see his eyes, is that this young man named Shenn is an old soul.

The northern half of Wispy Wood is a deep sea of trees, one easily gotten lost in. Every corner looks the same. For four weeks we have risen and fallen with the boring hills, featureless save for crumpled undergrowth and pines. Pines, pines everywhere.

We have passed the five millionth evergreen, and with every crunch we make in the snow-buried needles, I grow more exhausted and young Shenn grows more full of questions. Pointless questions. Such as...

"Huh. Why aren't there any birds?"

It is his fifth winter with me, and the previous four winters were laced with the birdsong of jolly little snow-perches. I miss them too. But I would rather not come up with some intelligent explanation at this moment.

"Because," is my brilliant answer, and I smirk at myself and look down at my boots. How would I know? They must have migrated somewhere. But if I say that, Shenn will proceed to inquire as to their whereabouts.

An acute gust picks up, and I tug my thin excuse for a cloak tighter around my shoulders. Shenn, of course, is fine. Oh, sometimes I wish I were a man with all that muscle; then I would never be cold.

Shenn does not look back; he simply keeps his face towards the west, where we will hopefully find our destination - thank the heavens - within the end of the week.

"Well, because _why_?" is his bold-voiced reply. "You've got to know these things, Ma." And he stops, one leather boot planted on one side of the thick, frosted-over log that stands in our way. I grab his outstretched hand, lift myself up with his arm's help, come solidly back down over the log - and slip on a little stretch of exposed ice.

Cold. All over my eyelids and up my nose and into my ankles. My ears are frozen but I _know_ he's trying to supress laughter. And failing.

"H-here, lemme help you up!" Shenn guffaws, grabbing me below my shoulders and pulling me up - effortlessly. Like a little child. I find myself giggling like one, too. What would a couple of experienced travelers think if they came across us two? Discussing the absence of birds, tripping over flat surfaces.

I stumble up and cling for dear life onto his arm for a few seconds, for my legs are shaky from the snow. I cough, brush the disgraceful white stuff off of my garb nonchalantly, and continue onwards without looking back. "Thank you, my dear boy."

"You're welcome, my dear clumsy ma. There's a big rock right there, careful."

I turn around and look at him. That triumphant grin makes me turn red in the face, but I cannot hold back the laughter. "You ought to show some respect to your mother!"

"I am, aren't I?" He catches up with me and pats my shoulder with his _freezing_ gloved hand. "I picked you up, didn't I?" He shakes my shoulder mercilessly. "You gonna just be ungrateful about it?"

I smirk at him, eyes wide and glaring. "Yes, fine, thank you!" And to make it sincere, I slip my arm round his cold, tall shoulders. I really do have a good son. Some sons are downright apathetic to their mothers. I lucked out.

The slope of the land is growing, and we begin exerting more and more energy just to maintain our pace. _Oh, please_, I pray,_ let this be that final mountain we have to cross, the one right before the city marking our goal_. My legs are informing me that they won't take much of this abuse any longer. One more mile and my lungs will agree wholeheartedly.

The sun is high and only a few ticks to the west, with not a cloud in the sky. Bright and cold. At least our brisk pace is keeping our core body heat up.

As we trudge on and on, footsteps crunching and lungs continually panting for breath, I fall into a reverie of silence in which my mind wanders every direction - I almost forget where I am. When my son speaks, I realize how long we had been silent.

"How many days did you say it was?"

By now, Shenn has gained a few feet ahead of me again, so I pick up my pace to catch up. "Five," I overestimate, meeting his eyes. "I would say four, but that's just wishful thinking."

"Hm," he nods, keeping his gaze again locked on the road in front of him. He has a way of talking without making eye contact. It unnerves me. "When we get there, I am going to enter hibernation and never come out again. Being awake is too hard."

I cannot help but laugh in agreement.

* * *

As soon as the sun touches the horizon, we set up camp. Shenn had happened upon a cozy ditch between three walls of rock and a roof of trees - almost like a room built for travelers like us. A dying sky colors the snow orange and lights us as we unpack.

And graces, my shoulders are happy once I heave that rucksack off of me.

As I kneel on the sleety rock and pull out our bedding, Shenn stands up wordlessly and walks off to find firewood. His crunchy footsteps and the distant rustling of branches are not the only sounds, I realize.

"Shenn," I call, raising my head and staring at the horizon. Hoofbeats.

My son narrows his eyes towards the distant sound, then crouches over his logs again. "Probably just a messenger boy. We'll be fine." Of course, his voice is not without doubt, but it is what I want to believe too. So, we continue our work as if nothing is the matter.

Something is certainly the matter.

During the next minute, my numb fingers unwrap our sleeping bags and lay them out upon the softest areas of snow, my son brings five plump logs that will surely last us the night, and we both sit and futilely scrape cold rocks together, attempting to make a fire, while that thunderous sound builds and builds.

Finally the hoofbeats slow and approach us, and I find my nerves becoming twisted up. What if it is a robber? I should have found a site that was farther off the road!

"Good evening, sir!" my son calls politely. Such a composed voice, thank goodness. Finally I look up from my rocks and gaze into the face of our visitor: a richly clad, bewhiskered human upon a beautiful, mustard-colored stallion. _Such a nice velvet coat he's wearing_, I muse. _He should be afraid of being robbed, not I._

"And to you," is the curt reply. I recognize immediately that he has very little respect for us. "I don't normally give announcements to forest-dwellers, but you are journeying into the Dream-Land, are you not?"

There is a silence in which we contemplate whether to give any information to this stranger. Shenn looks at me. I shrug.

"Yes, sire," I reply, standing up. "The domain of King D. D. D., if that is what you mean?"

His regal-looking nostrils flare. "Indeed. No one calls it by its true name anymore," he mutters.

There is another short, awkward silence, and I fill it: "The... announcement?"

He coughs. "His High High Highness" - there is no doubt of the sarcasm - "has closed his gates, and will allow no travelers, visitors, solicitors, merchants, _Rito tribeswomen_," - a snarky addition directed towards me - "or creatures of any sort, _in _or _out_. Good night to you." With that, the man turns around and raises his reins.

...What?

Shenn looks at me, his eyes wide. He leaps forward and grabs hold of the man's boot just as he is about to kick his stallion's side.

"Hey, wait just a moment -"

"Let go of me, you rat."

The command is so cold and firm that Shenn obediently does so, albeit with a deep frown written across his face. I walk to his side, quite offended as well.

"Would you explain_ why _the gates are closed?" I demand, losing respect of the man's high status above me.

The man just snorts. "You haven't heard of the war, have you?"

War? We shake our heads.

His horse whinnies and pushes forward a couple paces. As the nobleman swings his reins to face us again, he laughs mockingly. "If you haven't noticed, there have been territorial disputes with Hyrule for twenty years now, and they've just decided to dump a bunch of their goons on us. Unless you're soldiers and plan on defending the King's capital city, I suggest you _scram_."

He gives his horse a good shove, and it rears up and shoots forward, kicking buckets of snow onto our legs. I furiously wiggle out my boots - there is no way I'd let that snow creep into them and soak my feet.

Stormily, my son runs forward a few paces and shakes his fist at the shrinking figure. "Thanks for the suggestion, old man!" he cries.

I shake my head towards the west, where the King's capital lies only five days away. The sky is by now deep blue, and we only have a few minutes to set up camp until it is officially night. In frustration, I rub at my face with my numb hands. "I am so sorry. We'll have to find you another mentor somewhere else."

He turns around. "No. He was probably messing with us. Rich people like to lie."

I stare at him. "What if he is _right_, Shenn? Disputes happen, war happens - it's not a far-fetched story! I think we should head southwest and see if there are any villages with swordsmen - we won't be far from the capital, that way, if it ever opens up again."

Shenn narrows his eyes contemplatively. His eyes turn to the west, and he heaves a short sigh. "Fine. Let's do that. It's the best option we have at this point."

I nod, grateful for a backup plan. "All right. We should build that fire - the stars are already appearing."

And so we spend the rest of our evening in frustrated silence. After several futile attempts, Shenn finally manages to coax a spark out of the driest rocks we could find. By a miracle, the spark catches the dead wood he had found and breathes a nice fire to life. "I'll be glad once winter is over," Shenn mutters as he moves a few logs around, the orange tounges reflecting in his glassy eyes. "Very glad."

As I absentmindedly smooth out our bedding, I smile gently at Shenn. "Won't we all?" A chilly gust whips into our ditch despite the three walls protecting it, but the campfire holds its own against the cold.

I hurry towards the fire and vigorously rub my arms - I am wearing two thick layers of wool, but the night has a bite to it. The fire burns on and on, a humble flame, but certainly large enough to last the whole night. I look to the left to see Shenn sitting comfortably a few feet from the fire - not shivering at all.

I always wondered what it was about him which made him so immune to the elements.

There is a thoughtful silence in which we both stare into the fire, letting it hypnotize us into drowsiness like it has every night for the last month. What will it feel like to live among civilization again? Oh, how I hunger for company and shelter.

"Just five days," I think aloud, wistfully. "Five days and we'll be safe."

"Assuming there is a town within that radius," Shenn mutters quietly.

I hate that fact, but it is true. I sigh and take my leather gloves off, rubbing my brown, flimsy hands together. "There are little villages everywhere," I insist, attempting to summon my optimistic self - though really, it is usually asleep. "I'm sure we'll find at least one."

Shenn nods distantly, wrapping his arms around his legs. "You know, Ma..." He rests his chin on his arms. "I was thinking we should stop worrying about finding me a mentor for now. I mean... at this point you're practically out of food, and any shelter we find at all is going to be a blessing..."

He trails off. I try to wrap my tired mind around what he had said. His almond eyes stare intently into the fire, not once flickering towards me.

"Shenn, what do you mean?"

He shrugs. "You _know_ what I mean. Let's put off my training. I think we need to focus on staying alive right now."

It should make sense. I should have accepted that fact at the beginning of this week.

Still, it hurts me to hear him say that. I always wanted my son to have _ambition_.

"Please, try not to give up on this," I insist. "I'm sure the gates will open soon enough and we will find Sir Kirby. Ever since we heard of him, you've wanted to learn from him! Isn't it what you _want_, Shenn?"

Silence.

I stare at him. His eyes close. "I don't know."

"_Why_ don't you know?" My voice becomes strained. I bite off the next few words I was about to say: _I'm doing this for you, Shenn. I hope you realize that. We didn't need to take this journey._

I shouldn't be so demanding towards him! Why can't I simply agree that finding a place to live is more important right now?

...I know why. It is because I want my son to _want _something.

He finally looks into my eyes. "_I don't know_." Each word is punctuated. "Give me a break. I thought it would be easy. I didn't realize it would take four long weeks to get here. I didn't know how scared I'd get as we were approaching the capital." At that, he stops and looks angrily back into the fire.

My frustration floods away, replaced by concern.

"Scared?" I ask. "I... didn't know you were feeling that way, Shenn."

He breathes in deeply and exhales through his nose. "I wasn't scared. I just - when it dawned on me that we were almost there, and the most powerful knight in the Dream-Land was waiting for me... I, well, I wasn't sure if I was _ready _for him."

I look at him, and I finally understand.

All this time, he seemed so confident in himself. Was I really this oblivious?

I put one hand on his shoulder. "Let's find a village to stay in. We'll worry about this when we come to it. I'm sorry."

He keeps his eyes directed into the fire. "Okay."

I remove my hand. Where has his spunk gone? It is as if the spirit has fled out of him ever since that blasted nobleman left.

Sighing, I stand up and brush the snow off the skirt of my coat. "All right... Shenn, get some sleep. We leave at the crack of dawn." It is my usual proclamation; we always begin traveling in the early morning.

He looks up and smiles slightly, much to my happiness. "Okay, Ma."

Five feet from the fire, I set my boots on the ground and slip under my thick blanket. Shenn continues to sit by the fire, staring and staring. At times I wonder what goes on inside his head. Shenn is not like most people.

I breathe deeply and make myself close my eyes. I mustn't worry about him so much. Fifteen is a difficult age. I still remember when I was that young... how long ago that was.

For what could be hours or minutes, I watch the wispy clouds and stars, drink in the fire's heat hungrily, and drift in and out of thoughts. But only when I hear my son finally settling into his bed do I fall asleep.


	3. Miracle to the north

_miracle to the north_

* * *

I sleep in today.

As soon as I realize it, I open my eyes to a cloud-congested midmorning and just laugh at myself.

"Good morning!" I mutter, forcing my aching back off the ground and letting out a monstrous yawn. _Five days_, I remind myself. _Five days and there's bound to be a nice soft bed for you _-

Where has Shenn gone?

I am fully awake now. Disturbed, I scan the freshly white campsite with my eyes, not daring to get up quite yet. The blanket is too delightfully warm.

Hmm. He must have gone into the woods to relieve himself. He'll be back in a few moments.

I force myself to relax. Humph, it must be that brutish stallion rider that has made me jumpier than a flying fish.

During the next few moments, I dump out my boots, dry them near the (thankfully, still-surviving) fire, dry the blankets, dry everything else, munch on some of our strawberries, and dry our bedding some more, for good measure.

Where on Earth is he?

Heaving a sigh, I grab my bag and stand up. "Shenn, for Zelda's sake!" I cry into the silent wood, making my way down the thinly snowy trail. "What's taking you so long?"

After a minute, I hear a voice echoing from some thirty yards away. A man's voice - a very _angry_ man's voice.

Could Shenn be down there? Deciding not to waste time, I pick up my pace and run, taking care not to twist my ankles on any of these rocks. They are increasing in size just as the slope of the land is rising up - not too far now and I'll be at the top of this mountain.

As I grow closer to the voices, my legs stumble and my heart stops.

"I swear!" Shenn's voice carries down to my ears. "I didn't mean you any harm! Look, my mother is starving!"

I am sprinting up the hill now, my feet like rubber.

"Search him!" commands the gruff man's voice, just as I finally scale the top of the steep hill and come to a relatively flat area. My lungs are burning, but once I look up into the faces of my son's captors, I forget to breathe.

It isn't possible.

For a moment I stand dumbfounded, forgetting the dangerous position my son is in, and grin like an idiot. My race is still alive! Three formidable, eagle-winged men now stand before me, alive and well - I never thought I'd see another Rito tribesman in my life!

Of course, my joy is only transient.

"Who are you!" the headdress-donning chief barks - a command, not a question. He aims his spear, which was previously pointed at Shenn, towards my heart.

I gulp.

"Nurse Luria of Dragon Roost Island, Chief," I force out with a bow of my head, hoping that the code of kinship alone will be enough to settle this. "P-please release my son."

Silence. The three men exchange deep frowns. _Well, well, _I muse to myself, _the men of this tribe are just as cranky as those in my homeland!_

The chief pulls back his spear and thrusts the base of it towards the ground. The thick _thump_ makes my stomach churn. "Well, Luria, your son is a thief. You must instruct him not to plunder our stockpiles." He motions to the fat bags of berries at my son's feet and takes five authoritative strides towards me. "You say you are of Dragon Roost. I know not of this place."

A frigid breeze blows into my face, and I cough pathetically. My whirling thoughts produce nothing coherent for me to say.

"Is that the ancient island we have been hearing stories about?" one of the men suddenly remarks; I am very grateful for this easing of the hostility.

The chieftain turns around with his bushy eyebrows raised. "With the dragon named Varu?"

"It's Valoo," I correct, which I immediately regret: his sharp eyes turn back on me.

"So, you_ do _hail from the island of our ancestry," he sneers. "Why are you here, then? Seems cold weather for a woman to take her wingless boy out for a walk."

"And for three men to be leaving their food out in the ice," I add stupidly. _Why_ am I being rude to him, exactly? It'll be a miracle if he ever decides to release Shenn at this point!

The leader scrutinizes me for a minute, though it feels like years. The words are practically bursting out of my eyes: _Forgive me! Just let my son go and I'll never bother you again! Aside from following you and moving into your warm, well-fed village, of course._

"You are without a home?" the man says at last, his voice low.

I nod.

He does not reply at first. He simply closes his eyes, nods to himself, then turns and motions towards his men. "Release him. They will accompany us."

Sweet relief!

As they relinquish their grip on Shenn's wrists, the chieftain has already unfolded his wings and begun flying towards the north. "Come on, then. And _don't_ forget the berries," he adds in a tired voice.

"I - I cannot fly now," I inform him anxiously. "My wings are injured badly - haven't flown for three weeks, actually."

He stares at me. A mocking smile is unable to stay off his mouth. "Then you will walk."

And we are on the move again. Thankfully, I had packed everything before searching for Shenn, and he has everything in his bag as well - most of its contents being provisions for frail old me. I remain protectively at his side during the entire first half of our hike. These may be members of the Rito people, but I trust them as much as I trust skunks.

The mountain wears on and up, and the familiar burn in my calves returns. This time, however, I relish it - I am coming to a home where I will belong! I would never admit it, but Shenn is not the only one who is uneasy about entering a foreign capital city.

At noon, we finally reach the peak and I see what lies beyond it.

Snow-coated plains, forever and ever, and a sister mountain range running along the tip of the horizon. One thick river cuts straight through the land, almost as if with a knife blade: few twists and turns.

I squint to the far northeast. "That can't be the ocean," I murmur. "Is it?"

"You bet," says the tall, kindly-looking man who had spoken up during my interrogation earlier. "The Orange Ocean. Main naval port of the Dream-Land is on that coastline."

So we _are _near the northern ocean, minscule and blurry as it is. I try to figure in my head where on the map we would be. Certainly far, far away from Dragon Roost Island, nestled deep in the southern ocean.

"Keep moving," the chief announces, heading down the other mountainside where the trees are more sparse. "Two hours away, men."

My eyes bug out. Two hours! Thank the skies!

Shenn looks at me and grins. "We'll sleep well tonight, Ma."

I laugh. "Yes! Oh, Shenn, thank you for sneaking out and trying to steal those berries. I can never repay you."

"Don't mention it."

* * *

An hour and a half of walking and my legs are crumpling with every step, but I'm happier than a bird. The mountain has flattened out. Ahead lies the river, sweeping diagonally across the landscape, and along the distance I see another swath of trees and hills - and several huts dotting the landscape.

"Graces, Shenn," I murmur, putting my hand on his shoulder. "We're finally going to rest."

He simply nods and smiles.

The burly third man accompanying us, who has not said a word thus far, turns awkwardly towards my son and holds out his huge bag of berries. "Kid, can you take this?" he mutters under his breath. "My arms are killing me."

Shenn thinks it over and then shrugs. "Sure, I guess." And the great load falls into his ready arms.

So Shenn takes the berries after all! I laugh, but hush quickly because the chief turns his head to stare at us. "Kepal... you are lazy," is all he says. And then he turns and continues his flight.

As we approach the large, mud-bedded river, we catch sight of a single young woman on the other side, dipping a large wood bucket carefully into the river. Her face looks as if it was born smiling. She has not grown her wings yet, but her tanned skin and silvery-black hair show that she's a true Rito. Next to her lie two canoes - I smile. Good, I will not be wading through this icy water.

"Meyali!" calls the chief. "Send a canoe over!"

She looks up. "Chief, how good to see you! Is the bounty in the woods as good as you'd said it would be?"

Annoyed, the man drops to the ground in front of us. "Yes, yes, we've found enough berries for five families. Send a canoe!"

She grins widely in Shenn's direction. "Oh, and you've found a nice man to gather them for you! I'll send a canoe for him!"

Shenn elbows me. "I like her."

I have to agree with him.

As the three men fly effortlessly across the river, Shenn and I wait as she drives the humble boat across for us. As she rows nearer, I notice that she is quite old for a wingless one - probably only a bit younger than Shenn. She'll grow her wings in no time.

Finally, she beaches the shore and stands up, motioning for us to board the canoe. "Welcome. I don't think I recognize you - are you nomads?"

Shenn takes my hand as I step into the boat carefully. Smiling, I sit down and reply, "We come from the Dragon Roost Island. It was burned away in a fire, so we've been searching for a home all this month."

As Shenn sits at the back and picks up one of the oars, Meyali's gold-brown eyes widen. "You're kidding me. I have heard of that place - isn't it off the coast of Hyrule?"

I nod as they push the canoe off the shore with their oars, slipping smoothly into the river. "It certainly is. Would you like me to row for you?"

"Of course not," she replies, grinning. After a short silence, she inquires, "So, what are your names?"

Before I can reply, my son answers, "My name's Shenn. And this is Luria, my ma." I detect anxiety in his voice. Graces, he wasn't kidding when he said he liked this young lady.

"It's an honor," she replies, bowing her head politely. "We have not had visitors for some time - our soil is so poor these years."

"At least you've enough berries," Shenn pipes up.

Meyali looks up. "Indeed!" she snorts. "And we're darn lucky His Highness hasn't thrown us out of the Dream-Land yet. I don't think he takes kindly to us bird-people flying around his land."

I raise an eyebrow. This king hasn't sounded very popular so far.

It takes us five minutes to cross the glassy river, and frankly, that's long enough for me. I've never been one to sit in a wobbly boat for extended periods of time, especially when surrounded by nearly-freezing water. As we exit, walking carefully to avoid getting sucked in by the mud of the riverbank, Shenn kindly helps Meyali out of the canoe. Such a gentleman.

"I had no idea there was another tribe out there," he remarks as we start towards the village.

"And we didn't think Dragon Roost existed! It was always just a story to us."

I walk quietly alongside them, reveling in the serenity of the snowed-over plains and the velvety clouds above.

By now two of the men have grown impatient and set off already, leaving behind the kindly-looking one. As we approach him, he smiles and wraps his big arm around Meyali's shoulders. "Mey, I am so glad to see you healthy again."

She elbows him. "Father, stop worrying about me."

With a laugh, he replies, "Impossible." He looks at us to explain: "My daughter has been down with snow fever for a week. My wife and the other nurses were up to their noses in preparing herbs for her, day and night."

"Now, that's just mean. You know I wasn't that needy."

I smile. "Well, brother, I think the nurses will have to accept my help now!"

"They'll enlist you before you can change your mind," he agrees. "Ah, and I am Gerilo. It is good to meet you, Luria and Shenn of the Island."

Shenn gives the man a bow. "It's an honor."

"Likewise," I reply. Secretly, a small part of me is disappointed. The only kind man I have seen so far, and he already is married.

We trudge on, and the humble wooden huts grow larger and larger. My heart begins to soar; so many people! Mothers and children scurrying around carrying food, men conversing and laughing. And I had thought that all of my people were destroyed when the great wildfire ravaged our island.

Today is a miraculous day.

"Well, Gerilo, you finally made it!" the chieftain calls from near a hut. "Come and speak with me, will you!"

"Yes, sir!" Gerilo replies, heading towards the regally-clad man. He looks over his shoulder and adds, "Meyali, find them rooms."

She nods and turns to us. "Okay. Sister, you will join the nurses in their shared hut. And you..." She looks at Shenn, raising an eyebrow. "Are you a warrior?"

"I am, absolutely," he confirms.

Shenn is not a warrior. He has good muscles and fire in his blood, but he is _not_ a warrior. Can't shoot an arrow five feet.

"Then your hut is that way," says Meyali, pointing towards the hut nearest to the river. "And the nurse hut is right next to it, you can't miss it."

I decide not to contradict my son. "Thank you, sister." And I set off towards the hut, but not without giving a smirk over my shoulder at Shenn. He will have a_ very _good time taking the crash course in being a Rito warrior.

Shenn only grins widely back.


	4. The world in fire

_the world in fire_

* * *

**_January 20_**

**_The sun is falling and my eyelids are falling faster, but I have to record my thoughts on the day our journey ends. As soon as I stepped into the cozy nurse's hut, I realized how thoroughly tired I was and about keeled over. The only woman there was Hikala, the nursemistress - she was kind enough to help me to this room. I woke up about an hour after falling asleep, though, and knew I had to write._**

**_Papa, you would smile. They may not be living on a rich commerce island on the ocean, but they could teach us a few things. The huts are sturdily built and very warm, and the warriors look as strong as eagles. Today is a happy day._**

**_One thing, however, troubles me._**

**_Shenn knows he looks nothing like a Rito. He may have the steel-straight hair and the slanted eyes, but the rest of him is sharp, pale and so... human._**

**_During the five years he spent with me on Dragon Roost, I was in blissful ignorance - he seemed so young and the problem was so far-off. Same went for our journey - I thought I would never have to worry about him feeling like he didn't belong, since I was practically the only Rito left. But now my people are here, and he is among them again - and in a year he'll be old enough to earn wings. I fear that when that time comes... well..._**

**_Perhaps he has already accepted it._**

**_Ugh, I'm tired. Good night, Pa._**

And I lay down the pen, sighing. Darkness is swirling around my eyes already.

Clumsily, I make my way into the simple cot that was provided for me. The entire tribe is still outside, preparing dinner by the central fire and no doubt having a grand time. But I've been walking for a month, on legs that aren't used to walking. No one on the_ planet _is more exhausted than I am.

Slowly, my whirling thoughts give way to the cool mist of sleep.

* * *

Fire is an animal. It hisses and roars and eats everything.

At two times in my life, the world had seemed encased with fire. The most recent was one month ago.

I know I am having a dream, but I can feel the fire now as if it were real.

"Everyone, get the children!" Shenn screams, bursting out of our old hut with a half-asleep woman at his heels - I realize it is me. Am I somewhere in the sky, watching myself?

I must be, because that is certainly me - the scrawny woman with already-silvering hair straighter than pine needles. Her face is sweaty and still windswept from the rude awakening - in the middle of the night, something had caught on fire, probably in the postal office. Nowhere else is everything so flammable.

From my strange view, I see the entire island, all fifty square miles of it. All of it up in flames. Red as blood and yellow as the sun. Just as quickly, all of it is gone.

And in the distance, two coughing, firelit creatures - one holding the other - struggle through the air, faltering in flight, and finally crash upon the shore of the mainland: a mother holding her son with an iron grip. Though she severely fractures her arm in the process of landing roughly onto the ground, she will never let go of her son. Never.

Never.

...

The southern ocean recedes and kisses the shore, and recedes again. I blink, and I am five years into the past... a time before I met Shenn.

Fire is in the sky now. It's an image I remember painfully well: the Isle of Ancients, that strange man-made rock slab that hangs high in the sky, is a burning beacon of red, bizarrely glowing against the crisp white of the full moon. Every day of every year, it floated lazily above the world's kingdoms as a black silhouette. But now it is a fiery monster directly above our island. And we fear for our life.

Smoke surrounds it in a halo, and darkness seems to be eating it, swallowing it alive. All the children and mothers are hiding in their huts, protecting each other in case the Isle may fall down.

I and several others stand in the center of our village, craning our necks and trembling in fright.

Never have I seen such a haunting thing as a burning island in the midnight sky.

After several minutes, our chief gives the command: Evacuate the island. One by one, families flock over the ocean and land safely on the mainland only a mile away. I insist that I stay. Why do I choose to do so? To this day, I can't recall.

I think there was something whispering to me that it was what I had to do.

I am acting on instinct: I run towards the cave which houses Valoo the dragon, our guardian. The great red reptile is asleep that night, which makes me laugh. How much_ does _he care about us, exactly?

I don't try to wake him - if our shrieks of panic hadn't done it, there is no amount of noise I could make that would do it.

So I return to our camp, and my eyes never leave the sky. Darkness is swarming around the Isle, little black lights in a sickly dance with the red light of distant fire. I shudder.

_At least_, I think, _the Isle hasn't ever moved from its perch, and it doesn't move now_.

My task at hand is to gather all that is important to our tribe. I go from hut to hut, salvaging books, heirlooms, supplies, anything I can think of, and place it at the mouth of Valoo's cave. It is a long, tedious process, but it is the only thing I can think of that I should do. If the Isle does fall, the fire will hopefully not harm the rocky cave.

But frankly, by now I am questioning just why I felt so strongly that I had to stay on this death trap.

It feels like years and years go by, and the island above is still brilliant with firelight. The most haunting part of it is that it does not make a sound. Fire is silent as death in the distance; its hiss only is heard if you come close to it.

I have never been more terrified in my life.

After I stockpile everything, I curl up in the darkest corner of the cave and pray and pray. My heart flutters with every word my mind speaks._ Protect us. Please, do not let it fall down and destroy our beloved island._

I fall into a sort of dreamless sleep, but when the burly dragon snorts and twitches in his slumber, I am jerked awake. The air smells vaguely of smoke.

Carefully, I stand up and peek outside the cave. Dragon Roost Island looks as it always does: palm trees and lazy hills, vaguely illuminated by moon and campfire. I deem it safe to go outside.

As soon as I exit the mouth of Valoo's cave, my heart relaxes completely. The Isle is dark again.

I begin to return all the items I had salvaged back to their huts, but as soon as I carry my father's old travelbook to my door, I notice something.

A lumpy shape at the other edge of our village, gently lit by a withering campfire.

Curious, I draw closer.

And no sooner do I take five steps in the shape's direction than my heart halts.

A young boy sprawled on the dusty earth, dead.

I sprint to him and shake his shoulder, hold his head, examine his vitals. He is not moving.

Hot tears come to my eyes - how could I be so foolish? My purpose in staying was to protect what was important to our tribe, wasn't it? How could I let one of our _members_ die?

Through my angry tears, however, I inspect the boy's face closer and see that his features are very unlike a Rito's. I don't recognize him at all.

Still, it does not lessen the tragedy.

I lay him back down and rub the teardrops from my face in frustration. Brilliantly done, Nurse Luria.

My hand leaves his shoulder, and his foot twitches.

Lightning courses through me - he's alive!

"Wake up, wake up!" I stammer, putting my fingers to his neck, to his abdomen.

No breathing and no pulse. But... his body is moving.

As his arms flex and his sprawled legs adjust themselves, I back away and stare like a deer.

How in the world -

He looks up at me with absolutely no expression on his face.

I gawk at him.

He looks at me.

He seems completely fine.

I am a befuddled mess.

And the fair-skinned boy finally blinks and says, "Hi."

* * *

Late morning light oozes in through the grass-shaded window, emitting a strange green glow which looks downright alien to my groggy eyes. Yawning, I stretch out and realize suddenly that I am surrounded by five other empty cots... and that my bed feels like a cloud.

Oh yes - I am in the village now.

Piece by piece, everything that happened yesterday comes back to me, and I cannot help but sigh in contentment and lay quietly for a few minutes. I'll _never_ leave this bed.

Then I remember what a bizarre dream I'd just had.

Those two separate experiences had always been flickering in the back of my mind, but I didn't expect to_ relive _them like that. I must have been half-crazed from our long walk...

A fist knocks on the door, giving me quite a jolt.

"Er, come in!" I cry, jumping up and beginning to make my bed.

Hikala's wrinkled face peeks in through the door. "Did I wake you?"

I mentally kick myself and bow deeply. "No, Mistress," I reply, "I was just, uh, finishing my unpacking -"

"No need to lie," she interrupts, entering and closing the woven-straw door. "Sit. I need to have a look at you."

She's going to examine me? Oh, brilliant. I sit atop my cot and swing my wiry legs around to her side of it. As she approaches me, I redden. A list of my ten thousand flaws runs through my mind, beginning with _I haven't bathed in a week._

The large woman stands in front of me and puts her hand under my chin, scrutinizing me. "Do you know any magic?"

"A bit of it," I tell her honestly. "I'm no Queen Zelda, but I'm good with water. I use it with healing."

"Mm. Good. Then I can teach you what I know of water magic."

Up close, I see that Nursemistress Hikala has a gentle face, one with kind wrinkles about the eyes - yet she wears a no-nonsense demeanor... not unlike a certain chief.

Upon looking up close, I realize something: I'm much too easily intimidated by people.

"By the sun, Sister, you're stiff as a walnut. Breathe!" she commands, shaking her head in disbelief.

I exhale through my nose and duck my head. "S-sorry."

"You were halfway asleep even as you came through the door yesterday," she remarks, patting my cheek. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, Mistress. I - I have been living off of crumbs for the past few weeks. I'm afraid I don't have much energy in me."

"Which muscles are the most sore?"

_All of them!_ Despite myself, I feel ready to cry. "My feet," I blurt out honestly. _Pull yourself together, Luria._

Hikala crouches down, keeping eye contact with me. "Good. Your first lesson begins now."

And she puts her aged fingers around my feet. My dirty, blistery feet. A nurse is taught never to shy away from a patient with poor hygiene. Still, there is nothing quite as humiliating as being massaged by a nursemistress when you're a perfectly capable nurse yourself.

"Press your thumbs into the front of the heel," she instructs, mimicking the action. "And cool the water in the skin." Ahh! It's like my feet have become clouds. I can't help but sigh happily.

The plump lady looks up at me with eyebrows raised in humor. "You've traveled hard, haven't you?"

"_Yes_," is my vehement reply, and I cough hoarsely. "It's only been a month, but... well, I feel like I've gone through a different world."

"I spoke with your son," she says with slight amusement, "and he told me that all he's known is Dragon Roost. He hasn't ever seen the countryside before."

I nod. There is a small, contemplative silence; then she remarks, "Shame he had to see it while it's war-torn. Ol' D. D. D. used to have such good trade relations with Zelda, but all these border disputes have thrown _that_ out the window."

I shake my head in frustration as she removes her hands from my feet. "Thank goodness we weren't stopped at the border. I've seen the countryside plenty of times before," I explain, slipping my shoes on, "but only from the air. This time was on foot. My left elbow's been very weak since I broke it four weeks ago, escaping from Dragon Roost - haven't touched the air since."

"Oh really?" she asks, standing up and gently feeling at my elbow, through the sleeve of my garment, without asking any questions. I take in a sharp breath - though I can move my arm well enough now, flying on it is out of the question and I don't have a mind of letting other people handle my purple-tinted elbow.

Still, gentle curiosity and sympathy fill her eyes - the classic "nursely" facial expression - and I let her pull up my sleeve and examine my feathery injury.

"Bruised as a raisin," she comments, shaking her head. "And still, you use it?"

"Out of necessity," I reply, sighing. "It doesn't hurt that much, really. It just can't handle the wind yet." I stand up and search the room for my bag, uncomfortable that she still hasn't let go of my injury. Sore feet are one thing, but arms are another. A Rito is darn protective of her wings.

"I hope you take it easy," she finally sighs, eyeing me narrowly and letting the thin brown sleeve fall back down.

To prove my point, I use my left arm to grab my bag at the foot of the cot - slightly deflated now that I've taken out some of my things into the new room. "Yes, Mistress, I will. Thanks."

"Mmhm. Well, while you get yourself ready, it's our turn to make the meals today. So... hurry up." With a teasing smile, the older woman leaves the room.

As I blink the last bits of sleep out of my eyes and hastily get my day clothes on, I shake my head to myself in amusement. I can't decide whether I like her or not. My nursemistress seems nice enough, even if I feel uneasy around her.

Then, smirking, I remind myself - now that I'm back in civilization, I'll need to get used to being around people that bother me again.

I share this room with the five other nurses, none of which I've met yet. Each of their cots is empty, their folded-up blankets sitting at the foot of them, so I follow suit.

I take comfort in the fact that even if their clothing and homes are different from ours - more emphasis on sturdiness than decoration - there is still familiarity to be found here. The scent of feathers and fish, the kind gold of the native people's eyes. Every bone in me shakes with excitement at the thought of rejoining my race, even if they are not my tribe.

My anxiety for Shenn seems very far away now as I step outside, greeting the chilly morning air, ready to meet the world.


	5. A question for the humans

.

. .

. . .

Oh, the Isle of Ancients was tough enough.

The "people" who live upon it - if you can apply that term to describe them - put up a rather good fight. I was kept busy for an hour or two, subduing them with fire and darkness, no doubt giving you poor humans quite a scare.

But that leader of theirs. . . he is a different story.

I've observed the Master Robot over the years, you see. I've seen his actions. Others have only heard legends of the mysterious being, but I have watched him: the leader of that strange race no one knew much of, the dwellers of the Isle of Ancients. He tried to run from me.

Well, I conquered him.

I saw his ivory eyes - devoid of life or energy. Devoid of personality, even, as if the soul had gone out of him. I conquered him completely, I emptied him and his island of that useless frivolity they call _choice._

I am their captain now.

Humph. Finally - it has taken long enough.

. . .

He and his people can taste the color _black _now.

It's bitter, isn't it, Master? Do you see, now, what it is to be _outside?_

. . .

Among the legends I've seen humans make up is that this Master Robot is, in actuality, a man. The one who made himself immortal. The one who. . . supposedly. . . encased himself in metal, purified his body,strengthened his limbs, locked his age into place. . .

And they're true. For once, the humans are right.

Owning this man is delicious. Finally. . . the idiot who thought it would be good for him to give himself the ability to live forever. . . finally, he can see the ramifications of _that _choice.

My only question is this:

Master,

your body is here, and yet your soul isn't.

It has gone somewhere different. . . you've given it away. It isn't in you.

Well. . .

Where is it?

_Human,_

Do you know?

_Where_ is the soul of the Minister?

. . .

. .

.


End file.
